Jack knew just where to find me when the sun was setting on a late August night.

There I was, out in the garden wrestling tomato bushes in their tomato cages.

“Having fun?”

I glanced up, dirty and sweaty, and I felt myself frown. “Not in the least.”

“You get too worked up over these gardens,” he said.

I stood, stretching my back and pushing a hunk of damp hair out of my eyes. “I work really hard on these gardens,” I countered. My voice came out much harsher than intended.

“I know. I’m only saying that gardening should be a pleasure, not a stressor.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, sorry that I don’t want the bushes to collapse from the storm damage.”

We’d had some hefty thunderstorms in the last week or so and the winds had wreaked havoc on my neat, orderly rows.

“It’s late season. Let them get a little wild. My grandfather didn’t even cage them. They’d grow and spread along the ground. His tomatoes were some of the best.”

“Jack!” I snapped, in no mood to get gardening tips from a man who didn’t even own a houseplant. The tone in my voice got his attention, and he did something completely unexpected.

He grabbed my wrist and hauled me forward. “Someone needs to de-stress.”

“Not in the mood for a lecture,” I huffed.

His mouth narrowed into a tight line, and he surprised me again by dropping down on the ground between the lusty rows of tomato plants and pulling me with him. My knees hit the ground and I let out a little “oomph.”

“I’m not in the mood to give a lecture,” he said as he levered me forward with his large hands. I found myself sprawled across his lap in the dirt, tomato bushes tickling at my hair.

“What are you — ”

Before I could finish, he’d yanked down my ancient gym shorts and my striped panties. His hand landed with a loud crack, and I yelped.

“Jack!” My voice was irate but my body was reacting. He’d never spanked me before, had only joked about it. Now I felt a sudden and surprising rush of lust, and I wriggled on his lap in spite of myself. I should be angry, I thought. I should be livid. Instead I heard myself say his name again, but with an entirely different tone. The anger had been replaced by want and uncontrolled hunger.

His hand smoothed along the skin he’d just smacked, and I grew wetter. I gasped when he pressed his fingertips to the place where the blow had been delivered. I opened my mouth to speak as a second blow rained down.

I moaned and managed a half-assed “No. Stop.”

“Really?” he asked, his voice thick with desire. He tugged my pants up no more than an inch and I went rigid. I realized I didn’t want him to. Not at all.

“Someone will see,” I said, making up excuses now. I had no idea why. Maybe because I thought I should.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just delivered two more blows to my ass — left then right. The skin felt as if it was glowing, and my pussy seemed to thump in time with my heart. I hung my head and realized I could feel the hardness of his dick where I was pressed against him.

“Nonsense. This is the back garden and no one can see us here. Nothing beyond this plot but a big thicket of trees and an old shed.”

My next protest was cut off by the gunshot sound of his hand connecting with my ass yet again. This time three quick blows landed so fast the pain seemed to be fading into pleasure by the time I realized he’d connected with my tender skin.

I squirmed again. “Jesus, Jack… Jack…” I had nothing else to say.

His fingers penetrated me, and I found that from a single touch I was on the verge of orgasm. He gave me a few deep thrusts with his fingers, stimulating my G-spot, giving me such delicious torture I began to cry. Then he resumed the spanking, alternating quick sudden blows that kept me on edge. He paused and touched my bottom with his fingertips, eliciting a shiver.

“Please,” I said. “Just… something…”

I was begging, and I didn’t even know for what. But he’d taken me to very edge of where I wanted to be, and I needed him to help me. Save me. Give me what I needed.

His fingers pushed back inside me and he said, “Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry!”

He chuckled. “For what?”

“For yelling. For being so stressed about a bush. For… anything you want me to be sorry for,” I finished weakly.

He flipped me suddenly, my back hitting the dry dirt and fat green tomato bush leaves. He yanked off my shorts and panties. I felt a fruit squash beneath me and found myself laughing. He got up on his knees and undid his zipper.

I could barely make out his face in the growing gloom, but from what I could see it was dark with intent and need. He freed his cock and moved over me, hiking my legs up, positioning himself, and driving into me with a sudden, rough thrust.

His pelvic bone kissed my clitoris, and I cried out softly. He did it again and again, and when he yanked my knees up high, he opened my body to his driving cock. He thrust once more, and I came with a loud cry, startling some birds from the nearby trees.

Jack leaned over me and kissed me. His mouth was soft and sweet, and I felt myself smiling despite how our encounter had started.

“Again,” he said, reaching up to pinch my nipple and rotating his hips in that certain way that always makes me nuts. That move never fails to make me come, and as a second orgasm rushed toward me and the cicadas started their nightly screaming serenade, I muttered.

“Yes, Jack, whatever you want. Another it is.”

He laughed, waggled his hips again, pinched my other nipple and bit my collarbone. It was the perfect storm of stimulation, and as that second orgasm hit, he gave in and had his own, shuddering over me with the force of his climax.

“Wow,” I said, realizing my ass was pounding in time with my runaway heart.

“You know, I was thinking,” he began, kissing my shoulder softly.

“Yeah?”

“I think we should work in the garden together more often.”

Check out the Full Gallery